


In Our Silence

by anti_ela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:05:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anti_ela/pseuds/anti_ela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Ruby's death.<br/>-----<br/>Sam looks at the caller ID, and his stomach drops:</p><p>Bobby.</p><p>For a moment, he considers letting it go to voicemail, but on the fourth ring he picks up the phone and flips it open. “Hey,” he says, trying to remember if he always sounds that guilty when he answers the phone or if it’s just for special occasions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Our Silence

Sam looks at the caller ID, and his stomach drops:

Bobby.

For a moment, he considers letting it go to voicemail, but on the fourth ring he picks up the phone and flips it open. “Hey,” he says, trying to remember if he always sounds that guilty when he answers the phone or if it’s just for special occasions.

“Hey, boy.” Bobby’s voice sounds muffled—pain meds, or is it the connection?—but he’s understandable. “Dean around?”

 _Thank god._ “No, sorry, you just missed him—”

“Good. I need to talk to you.”

 _Shit_. “Oh. Well. Okay.”

Bobby huffs, and it might be a laugh. “Guess I earned that one, didn’t I?”

“Aw, no, Bobby, I know that wasn’t you in there.”

“Really? That why you believed it so easy?”

Sam doesn’t know what to say.

“Mhmm. That silence right there? That silence is just screamin’ ‘ _Bobby Singer is the rightest man alive_ ,’ and it’s yellin’ it right in my ear. So do me a favor, and don’t lie to me.”

Sam shifts in his chair and nods.

“You just nodded, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re an idjit, but I love you, god help me. So anyway, assumin’ you’re not busy averting the apocalypse, and let’s both of us assume that just as hard as we can and not try and skim the lore books as if I can’t tell the difference”—(Sam closes the book)—“let’s talk about how I apparently am not obvious enough in that department since you honestly believed that spawn of Satan.”

“Bobby, come on, it was a moment of weakness, okay? It won’t happen again.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“That’s reassuring.”

Sam rubs his forehead. “I don’t know what to say, Bobby.”

“I do. I love you, you moron. Do you know what you’d have to do to stop me lovin’ you? You’d have to stop bein’ Sam Winchester. That’s about it. You can start as many apocalypses as you want to, or throw in with as many demons as you feel like, or, hell, you can even put your shoes up on my furniture, and I am still gonna think you are one of the most intelligent, capable, funny guys I’ve ever met. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Sam can hear what sounds like a hand being placed over the receiver and, muffled, a conversation that might be with a nurse. “ _Does this have to be now? I’m kinda in the middle of somethin’_.” There is a response, though Sam can’t understand it, and then the hand is removed. “I hate hospitals,” he tells Sam.

“Well, have you ever considered not stabbing yourself?”

“Shut up.” But Bobby laughs.

“Thanks for calling, Bobby,” Sam says.

“No problem. And, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

There’s a pause long enough that Sam’s started to wonder if the line went dead, and then, “You can’t blame yourself for loving somebody.” Bobby coughs, a quiet sound against the rush of Sam’s blood. “And there’s nothin’ wrong with you if you miss her.”

Sam swallows, says something, and drops the phone.

When Dean comes back, he looks from the phone on the floor to Sam’s face; and as wisely as he knows how, says nothing.


End file.
